Shamelessly
by broadwaybaby529
Summary: It was a mutual frustration. He teased, she flirted, and in the end they were both left panting, wanting and alone. CW/HG
1. Making Matches

Shamelessly

Disclaimer: If Charlie Weasely belonged to me I would be a Ruby/Charlie shipper, not a Hermione/Charlie shipper.

A/N: Had a hankering for some flirt.

Shamelessly:

Chapter 1, Meeting Matches

The first time Charlie realized she was a woman he realized she was _all_ woman. Some girls take time, sprout up a bit, grow out their hair, start wearing make-up. But Hermione Granger had gone from a little girl, albeit, a smart-as-hell little girl, to a woman, seemingly overnight.

Nursing a rather nasty dragon wound Charlie Weasley had come home from Romania for a break. He hadn't particularly wanted to, the haranguing of his mother to settle down with a good girl and a non-life-threatening career, was something he felt like avoiding. He _liked_ working with dragons; it was why he had done it in the first place, giving up a _very_ good position as the Chudley Cannons Quiddich team seeker to pursue a life of more solitude. Charlie Weasley wasn't the celebrity type.

But he was home now, trying to pretend that his body didn't ache every time he tried to bend or reach. The burn itself hadn't been too bad, but his body's attempt to recover from it had left him sore and tired. He knew he wouldn't have been much help on the Reserve, in the state he was in.

And that's how he had come to discover that Hermione Granger, know it all bookworm of the Golden Trio variety, had fully and completely transformed into someone who was absolutely _not_ the good girl his mother wanted him to settle down with. In fact, as he found himself staring at those legs, he realized all he could think were very bad thoughts.

"Ice pop?" She broke him from his reverie. The house had been excruciatingly hot all day, and, even with the use of cooling charms his muscles ached. Charlie would swear he had just come down looking for the salve for the burn on his back. He had assumed that the rest of the house would be asleep, as they should have been; it was nearly two in the morning.

And yet, then there she was. It should have been illegal to wear such indecent clothing, especially with the number of hormonal teenage boys running around the house. Charlie had no doubt that Fred and George would cause a scene if they had known she dressed like that.

"Charlie, did the burn affect your hearing? Do you want an ice pop?" Only now did he look up. If he had thought those short shorts were bad he was in no shape to face the tank top that now seemed mock him. It would have been more decent if she hadn't been wearing anything at all, the way the outline of her breasts rested heavy in the flimsy material and the tip of her nipples just barely peaked through. He thanked Merlin for cooling charms.

"What are you doing up so late?" He asked, finally regaining his coherency. He had been known, out in the boondocks of Eastern Europe, for being quite the lady-killer. But the way he was acting now, slobbering and juvenile as his youngest brother, Ron, someone, he had no doubt in his mind, who would be incapable of treating this girl, _no woman,_ the way she truly deserved, was hardly reminiscent of that fact.

He pulled himself up on the counter, beside her, and took the aforementioned ice pop, sliding it into his mouth, hoping for an escape from the oppressive heat. He realized she was staring.

"You alright there, Miss Granger," he asked. They were on a first name basis mainly because she was with the rest of his family, because she had been coming to their Christmas parties for years, because she had been sleeping his bed while he was away at the Reserve. Suddenly images of her in his bed jumped to Charlie's mind and he let a small groan slip.

"I'm not sure if you're the right person to be asking that," she replied, letting her lips wrap around the ice pop. Charlie did everything in his control to not let his eyeballs pop from his head.

"From what I hear," she continued, oblivious to the way he was responding to her ministrations, "We almost lost you last week."

"Just a burn," Charlie replied, "Nothing too exciting." She eyeballed him.

"Let's see it then," she told him. He raised his eyebrows but did ask she asked, pulling his thin t-shirt from his body, the rush of cool air sent welcome shivers through his spine. It was too damn hot for its own good.

He turned, maneuvering his arm to point out the scar, as if he had to. He heard her gasp, then reach out her hand, as if to touch it.

"Go ahead," he said, "it's not too bad." She rubbed her hand on it, felt the rough pattern of crisscrossed skin. He winced and she pulled back, leaning against the counter, sucking the remnants of her ice pop from the stick, then tossing it into the sink.

Charlie got a bit of a wicked idea. She may not have known what she was doing, all fresh out of Hogwarts and inexperienced with the men in her life, but he knew how to make her wild. He would play.

He reached around her, to the drawer behind her back, but she couldn't have known that and her body reacted to the closeness of his, the bare skin against the tank top that seemed to be riding up her stomach.

"Salve," he explained, with a wink, pulling out the drawer and holding the tube in his hands. "That's what I came down here for in the first place, though the view isn't something to complain about." She scoffed, but smiled.

"I'm assuming you're going to ask for my help," she replied, and he just raised an eyebrow.

"If you wouldn't mind, that is," Charlie replied.

He would immediately regret it. The second her hands, covered in the lotion for his burn, touched his bare back, Charlie realized he was doomed. The fabric of his pajama bottoms was as thin as the material in her tank top, and it wouldn't take very long for her to realize the effect she was having on him. And so he stopped it, before he lost all semblance of self-control and did something embarrassing.

"I'm off to bed," he told her, not looking her in the eye, or god forbid, at her perky little tits. "But thank you for your help, Miss Granger." He could hear her smile,

"Good night, Charlie Weasley," she replied. And he knew, with images like that in his mind, it would be.


	2. Making Plans

Shamelessly

Chapter 2, Making Plans

"Tell me you didn't," Bill teased his younger brother. While Charlie appreciated all of his siblings, for different reasons, he and Bill had always had a special relationship, not unlike the one that the twins shared.

The traditional Sunday brunch was unavoidable for those Weasely spawn that had managed to remain even marginally close to home, and Charlie was grateful that he got to catch up with his brother again.

But their daily walk and smoke, sometime cigarettes or cigars, sometimes other things, around the grounds had turned from a catch up about life to Charlie rambling about Hermione Granger's legs. When Bill had pointed out this fact Charlie admitted that the events of the night before had not left his head, and that he needed help. Bill, the fantastic older brother he was, took the opportunity to tease him.

"I need a plan of action," Charlie said. " I want to put her in the same situation she put me."

"And what exactly would that be?" Bill replied, smirking, not unlike Draco Malfoy.

"Panting and wanton?" Charlie replied, with inflection in his voice. He was far too old to be acting like this.

"You realize she's still a kid," Bill asked him, after a moment, to which Charlie let out a laugh.

"She's out of school, she's practically our age and if you had seen her legs last night I swear, you would understand."

And in the next moment Bill did understand. Because as they reared around the house and came up to the pond they realized that Ginny and Hermione were in said pond, and very scantily clad. Paying no attention to their sister Bill and Charlie were both transfixed for a moment.

"If she stays inside all day how does she get so tan?" Bill asked, after a moment. His brother, too preoccupied with the look of her wet, heaving bikini-covered breasts, did not respond. Yeah. Bill couldn't help but think. His brother was going to need help.

Hermione knew he was going it on purpose. Every time the bloody Charlie Weasley went to take a bite of his ice cream he would wrap that sinful tongue of his around the spoon and suck. She was doing everything in her power, reciting the 78 uses for Thistle Extract, going over the Goblin's War, trying to remember the ingredients for Dreamless Draught, but nothing could get her mind off of that damn Charlie Weasley.

She sighed, throwing her head against the pillow on his old bed. She had become an honorary Weasley in the summer following their Hogwarts graduation, and, seeing as Charlie had been away at the reserve, even gained the use of his bedroom. When he had returned home he hadn't minded being pushed to Bill's old room. It also enforced, to his mother, that he wasn't planning on stay back for too long.

But here she was, lying in his old bed, and Merlin, it smelled like him. _What's wrong with you, Granger? _She asked herself. _You're letting your body get the better of you. Think logically. _ But she found she couldn't justify logical thinking, at this point in time. She had dozens of job opportunities lined up for the next year, none of which she even planned considering until September. The war was over, her life was at ease. And then came Charlie Bloody Weasley.

"Damn your brother," Hermione said to Ginny, when the younger girl walked in.

"We all know Ron's a dunderhead," her friend replied, having heard the rant, many a time.

"Not that one," Hermione said, exasperated. She would have pulled the pillow up close to her body, but it was too hot for that. _Yes, Hermione, blame all of your problems on the heat. _Her mind mocked.

"What did Fred and George do now?" Ginny asked. Ginny was truly Hermione's favorite girl in the world. She had coaxed from her a femininity that had really made her life easier, and to be honest, more fun. Hermione was by no means the Lavender level of incompetence, but she often found that silly acts, like straightening her hair and buying a new pair of shoes, could relax her. And she felt that, after all they had been through, a little relaxation was deserved.

"Not them either," Hermione moaned. She had grown quite fond of the twins, as well, when she took time to study one of their pranks and realized that they were really quite brilliant. She'd be hard pressed to admit it to them, but they had been able to notice the change in her attitude towards their work, and she found that they three of them rather enjoyed each others' company, on occasion.

"So," Ginny looked at her, "what are you talking about then?" Although Percy Weasley was known for his big head and pretentious pomp, he got along well with Hermione, the two of them enjoying a battle of wits that could go on for hours. As for Bill, she'd hardly seen hide or hair of him in days.

"You," Ginny jumped up, barely able to contain her smile, "you've got a crush on Charlie!" She practically screamed it, and Hermione felt herself blush to the tips of her ears.

"Can you not shout it? I'd prefer that everyone and their Azkaban guarded father didn't know."

"Wait, so I'm right?"

Hermione sighed.

"I don't know. I don't think I have a crush, per say, I think I'm just very physically attracted to him. Very much." Ginny raised her eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger, are you saying you're horny?" Her voice was a mixture of incredulous and proud. Hermione smiled, despite.

"I think I might be," she admitted.

"Well then," her friend replied. "Let's help you get laid."


	3. Making Outfits

A/N: This update is definitely for Alyssa. Let me know if you have any ideas!

Shamelessly

Chapter 3,What are you Wearing?

Hermione sat in the living room. She felt ridiculous in her getup, but she knew that Ginny Weasley had a keen eye and good taste. Still, her exposed breasts and legs were feeling the effects of the well-placed cooling charms. Below her outfit was an absolutely sinful set of lingerie, one she would never have bought on her own, and, despite everything, she felt sexy in it. She knew Charlie would come.

And he did. It was late, but with her book spread out on her lap the time went quickly. She was the only one awake in the house.

He wasn't wearing a shirt when he walked in. He had grown into the habit of never wearing them, something she cursed him for, but secretly loved. The contours of his body against the light of her candles were stimulating, erotic, scintillating.

He was muttering to himself and in frenzy, as though he had been looking for something for a long while. Hermione giggle.

"Have you seen a book anywhere," he asked, not realizing who it was. "Oh hey 'Mione," he paused, his throat catching whatever words he was going to say next.

"Why are you wearing your school girl uniform?" He asked, after a moment. "You graduated, you know?" All the images of a panting, begging, school skirt clad Hermione Granger bent over his desk came rushing into Charlie's mind, and the blood came rushing out.

"It helps me focus," she said nonchalantly. "What are you looking for?" He tried to avoid the looking for her breasts, but it didn't work very well.

"Er, my book. It's about the history of the horntail. Have you seen it anywhere?" Hermione smiled.

"I think I did, one sec." She stood up, placing the book on the ground and bending over for a moment. Charlie gulped. This was bad. Really bad. There was no way that the girls of Hogwarts had gone about wearing that outfit in his day.

They hadn't, actually. Hermione and Ginny had modified her school uniform a bit, shortened the skirt, tightened the blouse; let the tie hang loose over her neck. It was something out of a muggle porn movie. As for Charlie's book, well, they're hidden it on the top of the mantle, in expectance that he would come looking for it.

Hermione stood up, then pulled the step stool from behind the chair with her sock clad foot, hopping on it. As she climbed up the ladder Charlie knew he needed to look away as soon as he could. But the candle lit view of her legs that led up that skirt and holy shit. She was wearing practically nothing up there. The angled view he had of his woman hood proved that very little was covering what he was most coveting.

"Is this it, Charlie?" Hermione asked most innocently. She handed him the book and hopped off the stool.

"You're welcome to keep me company, if you want." She added. He swallowed. He was a man. He could do this.

Charlie sat on the couch, his legs stretched out before him. He was comfortably seated when Hermione shifted positions, accidentally giving him an impossible view down her tightly tucked button down shirt. The creamy color of her collarbone was begging to be bitten, he thought.

"I'm off to bed, Mr. Weasley," Hermione said, after a comfortable time of reading. The tension in the room was getting to be palpable, but that's exactly what she had been aiming for.

She stood, seamlessly twirling a moment and bending to pick her books off the ground. Charlie blanched, she giggled inwardly. The whole point was that he didn't know she was doing this one purpose.

"Sweet dreams," she tossed over her shoulder.

_Sweet dreams, indeed. _Charlie thought to himself. _It was time to fight fire with fire. _

Hermione's mouth was dry, dry as bone; dry as paper, dry as a desert summer. Logically she was wondering how he could be wearing those pants in this kind of stifling heat, but the other part of her brain, the more pronounced part of her brain, was merely focusing on just how well those damn leather trousers fit Charlie Weasely's very, very, nice arse. Did she mention very?

"Look at those pants," Hermione hissed to Ginny from the picture window of the Burrow Kitchen. Ginny rolled her eyes, "he's definitely my brother, 'Mione," she replied. "Now Harry on the other hand…" Hermione knew she had lost her focus. Normally she would have been outraged that Mrs. Weasley was putting the boys to do all the work while the girls lazed around inside, but as she considered the oppressive heat, _and the view, don't forget to mention the view,_ she was finding herself quite okay with the situation.

Charlie had taken to simply never wearing a shirt. Around the house, in the garden, only at the dinner table did he don the proper attire, and that was the sage advise of Mrs. Weasley, with whom, despite his status as an adult, he still groveled for. But these pants were a new addition. And Hermione, for the life of her, could not keep her eyes off the amazing derriere that presented itself.

"He won't take them off," Bill said laughing, as he walked in, carrying muffins for breakfast. "He says they keep him cool, though I can't for the life of me imagine how he isn't sweating his balls off." Hermione missed the look Ginny had shot her oldest brother. She was too absorbed with the thought of Charlie's.. er.. genital region, dripping. Fuck. She thought to herself. Just fuck.

"Hey, Gin, wanna hand me a glass of lemonade?" Charlie asked, walking through the door with a smile on his face smug as the cat that ate the canary. "It's hot as the blazes of hell out there." His sister smiled and handed him a glass. Hermione just ogled.

His body was covered in sheen of sweat, from working in the garden. His hair, tousled and messy, had a glint of sun that seemed to mirror his torso. She forgot how to breathe. And when he raised the glass to his lips and the condensation drops of water followed his jaw line down to his collarbone and dripped onto his damn trousers she knew she had gotten in way over her head.

And it only got worse. "I need a basket," Bill told his brother, as he dropped the muffins on the counter and gave his sister and Hermione a hug, (how was it that she didn't feel anything when the eldest Weasely brother hugged her, but the very thought of Charlie sent her mind reeling?

"Do you know where one is?" He had been sent on a mission, by the matriarch, of collecting the apples from their tree in the yard. Charlie, apparently, did know where the basket was.

He bent down in front of her, searching through the low cabinets. When that didn't prove successful he jumped right up on the counter and searched on top of the cuboard, he beautiful waggling arse right in her line of vision. And when he turned around she saw that she had picked the right candidate for the get-Hermione-laid position. Because if he had any idea how to work that bulge in the front of his leather trousers… that very prominent bulge.

"I…" she stammered and the three Weaselys looked at her. "I'm gonna go… wan- shower… I'm going to go shower," she finished, then darted up the stairs.

Yes, Hermione realized. She had absolutely no idea what she had gotten herself into.


	4. Making Meals

Shamelessly

Chapter 4, Making Meals

A/N: Thanks so much for all the support guys! I hadn't intended to make this story that long but since everyone seems to like it I'll definitely continue!

Hermione flipped through the pages of Witch Weekly. The Wizard World equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine, some of the suggestions being made were kinky, risqué, dangerous or downright impossible. The page she was currently one, _82 Ways to Work His Wand_ had her blushing like she hadn't done since Remus Lupin had tried to give the Golden Trio "The Talk."

"Still working on seducing my dumb arse brother?" Ginny asked, walking into Charlie's old bedroom, where Hermione was reading. She looked at the magazine in question and smirked. "Good choice."

"Who would do this?" Hermione replied, pointing to number 43 on the list. "Have him hang on his broomstick and impale you, did they actually use the word impale, from above?" Ginny blushed, furiously.

"You didn't?" Hermione asked her, teasing the young witch. "Oh, god, Harry. That image." Ginny just flopped down on the bed.

"Well, you want to bugger my brother, so I think it's only fair that you have some pay back. Oh look at this one," she pointed at the page.

"Ride him like a Hippogriff?" Hermione asked incredulously, "Is that all it says?"

"Take him the muggle way?"

"How is that different from the normal way? Do muggles have different shaped parts or something?"

"Oh look," that was Ginny, "Invisibility cloak style."

"Polyjuice potion, that's just not sexy to me."

"Lick it like a dripping ice cream cone." The girls fell on the bed, laughing hysterically.

"Wait a minute," Hermione said, sitting up. "That's it." She darted out of the room before Ginny had a chance to ask.

"Mrs. Weasley thanks so much for making ice cream sundaes for dessert." Hermione said, as they sat around the dinner table, enjoying their icy treat. "It's been so hot, and I've really missed eating them with my folks."

"Of course, dear," the matriarch replied, and were anyone watching the conversation it would seem nothing out of the ordinary. But Ginny could tell that her friend was up to something and it was getting damn difficult to contain her curiosity.

Ah, there it was. The brilliant witch's tongue darted from her mouth, wrapping around the white cream sitting on the tip of her spoon. Ginny almost laughed, it was so simple.

Charlie, on the other hand, wasn't laughing. As soon as they had sat down to ice cream and whipped cream he knew he would be done for. And as soon as that blasted witch parted her beautiful cherry lips he knew he was a goner. Her mouth wrapped sinfully around the thick white cream ands she sucked it off with finesse. He could feel the guttural growl rising in his throat.

"Hermione, dear, you have some cream on your lip," Molly said, and Charlie thought he might about die. He couldn't help but imagine what else that mouth could do, as she darted out with her little pink tongue to lap up the remnants she had missed.

"Would you like a napkin to sop up that drool?" Bill asked, leaning over. "Or do you plan on retaliating?"

"It's not a war," Charlie replied, not responding to the taunt. "She doesn't know what she does to me."

"Then play dirty." Charlie chose not to grace that with an answer. His mind was already playing very dirty.

Hermione suckled on her spoon for a moment and Charlie could feel all the blood leave the rest of his body and settle in the nethermost region.

"Got any ideas?" He asked his brother, after a moment. Bill just grinned.

It had been a success, Hermione felt. She had slept well that night, teased with her delicious ice cream sundae and couldn't help but feel the eyes of the second Weasely on her, even when he wasn't in the room. She was going to make him cave. She knew it. And then… there was always an and then.

She walked into the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water to calm her down a bit. The idea of the sinful stare of Charlie Weasely was making her hot with desires.

And there he was, in all of his topless glory, something she would never grow tired of looking at, eating a… what was he eating?

He was eating a peach. A juicy, squishy peach, something she realized when the juice ran down his neck and splashed lightly against his chest, following the rivets of his abdomen. When he heard her come in he lowered it from his mouth, providing Hermione with a tantalizing view of his extremely red lips.

"Cherries, love?" He asked her, and she understood the cause of those glass red lips, staring at her, taunting her.

"Or peaches, I think we have some left." She heard him speak but was unable to respond, too infatuated with the motion of the peach juice sliding down his upper body.

"How's your back?" She asked him, out of the blue. He simply smiled, sure, by her stuttering and quietness, that his plan was working.

"I'm doing a little better," he replied, still taking the occasional bite of the peach, making sure that every drop splashed against his chest.

"Doctors say it might take a little longer, but hey, I don't mind being home." In the right state of mind Hermione would have refuted that fact. Charlie was known for not really wanting to stick around, when he didn't have to.

"Are you sticky?" she asked him. He smiled, a full set of beautiful white teeth.

"It ain't too bad. You don't like being sticky?" She stuttered.

"I don't mind it," she replied, "As long as you can shower afterwards. I'm going to go do that, actually, since it's so sex-er-hot in this room. Because of the heat. It's hot because of the heat because it's summer. Yeah." She ran out of the room, ready for a wank in the shower.

Yes. Charlie thought. He was going to make Hermione Granger succumb.


	5. Making Moves, Dance Moves

Shamelessly,

Chapter 5, Making Moves, Dance Moves

Hermione swung her hips to the sounds of Shakira, emanating from her ipod. Of the few muggle things she had been compelled to incorporate into her life as a witch this had been one of them, and it allowed her to embrace her inner Shakira freak without anyone knowing, not that they would have had any idea who she was, but the point remained.

She was so hung up in her gyrating motion that she didn't hear the door open and her best friend slip in. Ginny must have been staring at her for a good five minutes, while she let her waist slip and slide to the music, before she even realized that there was a set of eyes on her.

"Shit, Gin - you scared the hell out of me," she said, collecting the headphones she had yanked from her ears when she picked up on the fact that she wasn't alone.

"Sorry," Ginny replied, not sounding very sorry at all. "But that was extremely entertaining, in case you were wondering. Is that your eye-pawd thingie?" Hermione tossed it to her.

"Yeah, and the headphones make it so I can't hear anything else, hence the reason I didn't realize you were in the room. Sneaky Weasley." Ginny just smiled.

"There are worse things to be," she told Hermione, putting the headphones in her ears and jumping back when the music came on way too loud.

"You know what would win Charlie over?" Ginny asked, after Hermione has fixed the volume for her friend.

"What's that?" She asked, opening a book on her lap and half listening to her friend.

"You dancing for him." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Ha ha, okay, Gin," she replied, turning back to her reading.

"I mean it!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping from the bed with a bounce. "I saw you move, that was sexy shit, girl. Like, who knew you had an ass?"

"Gee, Ginny," Hermione teased, "You're so kind." Ginny ignored her sarcasm.

"You're just mad that you didn't think of it first," she said. Hermione looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"I plead the fifth," she joked.

"What's the fifth?" Ginny asked her.

Hermione picked up as many dinner plates as she could carry and brought them to the sink. As much as Mrs. Weasley insisted that she could do them with magic Hermione rather enjoyed doing the dishes by hand, something that reminded her of home, whatever that could be considered now.

She heard the rest of the clan finish and trudge upstairs, before she plugged in her ipod and searched for the sponge in the sink of pots and pans.

_Oh baby when you talk like that…_

She had to admit, Ginny had been right, dancing was definitely a considerable aphrodisiac. She swung her hips in time, feeling utterly sexy, covered in soap and holding the sponge. She moved behind her waist, allowing her hips to do the dancing for her and getting absolutely lost in the music.

"Hey mum, have you seen my bo-," Charlie stopped. He had been walking into the kitchen expecting to see his mother and instead found a goddess in a wet t-shirt moving her body as though it had been created for the soul purpose of making him crazy. She dipped at one point, sliding to the ground and pulling her chest up. He didn't even bother to wonder at how she was getting any of the dishes done when she was dancing, he was preoccupied.

Hermione could sense that he was in the room. She did one more drop and slap before she turned, acting surprised.

"Charlie, I- I didn't hear you come in," she stumbled, pulling the headphones from her ears.

"This is so embarrassing, I'm sorry you had to see my horrible dancing."

"Yeah, horrible," Charlie muttered, but Hermione didn't catch it.

"Were you looking for something?" She asked him innocently, though she knew exactly what it was. Ginny had taken that same book on Horntails and stuck in on the kitchen counter. Her brother had been having trouble getting through it the last few days, seemed distracted.

"Ung- book," he managed, and Hermione felt pleased. She knew that it would have some effect, but she didn't realize how much.

Charlie swallowed; he had no idea how he was going to one up this one.

"Tango," Bill told him, leaning back on the chair in his old room as his young brother sat on the bed, looking through old Quiddich catalogues.

"Pardon," he said, looking up at Bill. He had explained the earlier night's circumstances and Bill, kind as he was, had taken it upon himself to find the proper solution. Charlie had been having mixed feelings about his suggestions.

"Don't pretend you don't know how to do it," Bill replied. "You spent three years taking lessons, you dated a tango dancer, and you're damn good. I've seen you."

"I don't know if dated is the right word," Charlie answered, and Bill just laughed.

"Alright, you _danced the horizontal tango,_ if you will. But come off it, there's nothing more sexual than tango, just say you're practicing for a competition, or something like that." Charlie considered it, Bill had a good point. He just didn't feel like admitting it.

Charlie placed the record onto the old player holding his arms out in front of him and closing his eyes. While he still wasn't sure that this plan would work out the way he was hoping it was still nice to simply close his eyes and let the music sway him. Still, Tango was damn difficult to do without a partner.

"Hey, 'Mione," he said to her, as he heard her walk through the room. "Dance with me?" She scoffed.

"I don't dance." But Charlie shook his head.

"That's a lie, we both know it. Dance with me." She sighed, knowing she was walking into the Lion's Den, but for some reason it didn't bother her that much. Placing her books down she took Charlie's offered hands.

"I haven't danced in a while," she admitted, trying to ignore that their bodies were getting undeniably closer.

"It's okay," he whispered, deep and husky, into her ear. "Just let me lead, and you try and catch-up. Hermione would have made a statement about feminism, but as it should so was entranced by the manly scent, the bulk of his muscles, his everything, close up against her that she found it difficult to respond.

"Relax, luv, it's just me." Charlie told her, and it was. They moved together seamless, Hermione following Charlie's lead, trying to remember back to her old dance classes and trying to keep up. But Charlie had other thoughts in mind, mainly the fact that his plan had backfired, horrible. See, he had thought that the tango would turn Hermione on, something that it was doing, horribly, though he had no way of knowing that. The problem he was encountering was that he hadn't considered himself in the equation, and how his own body would react when faced with the closeness of the goddess before him.

Now that the theory was in practice he was realizing his fatal flaw. As they moved across the room in a single fluid motion Charlie could only hope that Hermione didn't notice the effect that her beautiful body was having upon his.

She noticed alright, thick and hard against leather pants that pressed into her skirt. But she didn't want him to stop dancing, for the love of god she didn't want him to stop dancing. She could feel the hunger, the heat, rising in her lower abdomen and she was burning with desire to explore his body. Every time he pulled her closer her face flushed with anticipation. If he was this good at dancing she could only imagine what he would like at making love.

Neither one could take much more of it, their body burning with need and excitement, the passion and desire deriving from the closeness of skin and skin and biceps and bodies was making them both crazy, Hermione was afraid she might orgasm without him even touching her there.

But fear suddenly overwhelmed her, and she pulled away panting. She was not some wanton whore, she kept telling herself, right?

"I've got some reading to do, kay Charlie. This was fun. Maybe we'll dance again another time. You're a wonderful dancer." She babbled on a bit and finally hightailed it out of the living room, finding herself back upstairs in Charlie's old bed, taking care of the problem he had just caused her.

Charlie, one floor up, in Bill's old room, was doing the same thing. The witch's hot breath had tickled his ear, her bosom pressed against his chest, her legs had been wrapped around his. He knew that he was playing with fire, but in the end, he would have Hermione Granger to call his own. He was sure of it.


	6. Making Progress

Chapter 6

Making Progress

A/N: I'm sorry it's been so long since I've updated. It was one of those stories that got away from me. But I'll give you a good chapter and I thank everyone for the support!

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Charlie woke up to the light streaming in from his window and rubbed the lost sleepers from his eyes. He had had the most calming sleep in ages, since the burn and since Hermione Granger had become the forerunner in all of his thoughts. When he stretched, however, he began to realize why, as remnants of his dream came flooding back to his mind.

_Fingers intertwined, bodies closely held under the cherry blossom. She reads him Shakespeare and he braids her hair. She doesn't even comment when it gets tangled. They're running through fields, tussling in the tall grasses, letting light kisses project their feelings for each other…_

Charlie sat up straighter. Feelings? Since when had feelings been part of this equation? He was playing with fire because it got him hot, right? He rolled his eyes at his own juvenile justification. He had begun to feel something for the young witch. She was gorgeous beyond belief and the smartest damn person he'd ever known. But it had taken their game for him to realize that was also fun, also willing to step out of library to put on a show. He swallowed. Time to hit up the next step.

Hermione was sitting at the kitchen table reading The Daily Prophet when Charlie finally emerged. "You know it's nearly noon?" she scolded, with a lighthearted throw to her voice. But his mother had returned to the kitchen at the same time he had come down and didn't think it to be nearly as funny.

"Charlie Weasley," she began, "it's almost noon, and you're sleeping your whole blast day away." Charlie could only smile at his mother and peck her good morning. She excused herself for a moment to go check on her other sleeping sons.

"How'd you sleep, Charlie?" Hermione asked, over the paper, while sipping coffee. Evil witch, wouldn't even look him in the eye.

"Spectacular," he replied. "I had the most interesting dream." She raised her face over the top of the newspaper and caught his gaze for a second. "Oh?" She asked, as though she were desperately curious but trying so hard not show it.

Charlie nodded, enjoying that he was keeping her waiting.

"Well, come off it, what happened?" She asked, stuffing her head back under the fortress of news.

"Well, there was a field." Charlie began. Hermione made a noncommittal huff. "And you were there, wearing this pretty sundress."

"Sounds positive interesting," Hermione replied, from under the Prophet. Charlie took his finger and lowered the newspaper so he could see her face. Hermione raised her eyebrow.

"I take it there's more?" She asked, trying not to sound breathy, as Charlie's face got closer to hers. They were speaking in whispers now, their lips just breaths away from one another. Hermione made a mental note that she could count all of Charlie's freckles from this close.

"There could be more," he replied. "Go out with me this weekend?" Hermione raised her eyebrow with neither confirmation or denial and opened her mouth to respond. But in the instant four other Weasley's made their appearance known as Molly dragged her sons into the kitchen for a very late breakfast.

Hermione and Charlie jumped back from each other, each separately cursing the timing and engaged in the morning pleasantries with the rest of the family.

"Does he think he can just demand and I'll say yes?" Hermione ranted to Ginny as the girls sat around her room. "He's been a bloody tease all damn week and now he just wants me to go out with him. What if I don't want to go out with him, huh? Then what?"

"Except you _do_ want to go out with him," Ginny pointed out from behind another copy of Playwitch. "There's no point in denying that." Hermione growled in frustration and continued to pace the room. She really didn't want to admit her growing attraction to the second Weasley son was anything more than physical. In a month's time he would be going back to the Dragon reserve and she would see neither hide nor hair of him until the following Christmas, if that. Plus, Charlie was a confirmed old bachelor; he wouldn't want a relationship, just a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. She didn't want to let herself get hurt. Not happening again.

"You like him," Ginny stated this quite plainly. "Clearly he likes you. So say yes." Hermione thought for most of the afternoon about her situation. Deciding she wasn't going to let a good opportunity go to waste she formed a plan.

"When did you get tits?" Ginny asked, when she stopped buy to grab her brush from Hermione and saw the tank top she was trying on. "I just don't love to flaunt them." She admitted. But taking one look her mirror she knew this would be a good idea.

"I stand by it, Sneijder's the better Chaser, always has been," Charlie and the twins had been engaged in a battle of Quiddich heroes for the better part of the day. "Oh hey, 'mione." He heard Fred call to her as she came down the steps.

"Hey guys," she replied, walking over to the table they were all sitting around. "I came to grab some books." She stopped behind Charlie and learned over the table, affording him a view down her tank top that stopped him dead in his tracks. He'd gotten glimpses at her breasts before, but this was extraordinary.

"Fred, George?" Ginny called to them from the stairs, which gave Hermione a chance to learn into Charlie's ear and whisper, very simply, "Why should I?" Before she straightened herself out and headed back up the stairs.

Hermione was talking to Mrs. Weasley, as they prepared dinner when Charlie set his plan into effect. He borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and cast a silencing charm on it, allowing him to talk to one person without everyone else in the room being privy to their conversation.

" I think it's fantastic that Percy got another job in the ministry," Hermione was telling Molly, who nodded, but began her motherly worries all the same. Hermione was listening closely when she felt a tickle in her ear.

"Don't make a sound." It told her. It disappeared for a moment but then Hermione gasped. "You alright dear?" Molly asked, and she simply nodded. Under the tablecloth where she was peeling potatoes her invisible voice had taken advantage of the fact she was wearing a skirt and was blowing lightly on soft fabric of her panties, which was quite visible from under the table.

Charlie slid his finger over her moist panties and began to slide them off. She gasped, quickly turning it into a cough. Molly didn't seem to notice. He spread her legs as he could, in the space and slipped one finger inside her, she coughed again, but he could tell the affect he was having on her body.

After a moment of torture Charlie leaned in and caught the nub of her clit in his mouth, sucking lightly. Hermione cursed.

"Alright dear?" Molly asked.

"F-Fine," she replied. "Just dropped the peeler. She leaned under the table.

"Yes," was all she said.


	7. Making Memories

**Shamelessly**

**Chapter 7**

**Making Memories **

**Disclaimer: **Same as the last chapters

**A/N: **I'm so incredibly sorry that this story took me so long to update. I can't guarentee that it's going to be very long, but I hope I can give you something to make up for the wait. On a heavy note, if you could all send your thoughts out to Greece right now. We were there last week, right before the riots started, and the country is really in a state. I'm not one for praying, but keep them in your thoughts. On a much lighter note, happy Valentine's Day to you all! I hope this chapter reaches expectation! Now, no more of me talking!

Shamelessly

Chapter 7

Making Memories

"Give me the brush," Ginny said. Her hand was on her hip and the glare in her eyes was so directly reminiscent of her mother's that Hermione felt no choice but to hand over the offending object in question. Ginny placed it on the dresser, giving her friend the once over.

"You're under my control now," she said after a moment. Hermione went to respond, but one more Weasley-Matriarch worthy glance was enough to quiet her. While on principle she found that her style and Ginny's were extremely different than one another, she wasn't, on the whole, totally opposed to Ginny giving her a makeover before her date. She had an eye for the ease of femininity that Hermione felt she hadn't yet mastered. And besides, he had been driving her crazy with this mad game they had been playing. She simply wanted to make sure he was on his toes.

"Now," Ginny began, her back facing Hermione as she dug around her disaster of a closet. "Did he tell you where he was taking you?"

Hermione shook her head and looked out the window to where the mid afternoon sun was casting long shadows on the garden and thought about how it didn't really matter. She was getting to spend the evening with Charlie, just the two of them, no crazy family members or interfering friends. She couldn't care less if they were camping the night out on his Dragon Reserve in Romania, though she had taken to a distaste of camping following the War. But the thought, the idea that she had such feelings for a man she knew so little about, scared her quite. And she was usually so level headed.

"Hermione, earth to Hermione," Hermione looked at her friend, who was now waving her hands in the air quite wildly.

"Are you alright, Ginny?" Hermione asked her, cocking her head to the side. Ginny folded her arms.

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes," she replied. "What were you thinking about?" She paused, "_Who _were you thinking about?" Hermione smirked.

"Fred and George," she said with a wink. "I was wondering if they lived up the name 'cock rocket."' Ginny didn't look amused, though the corners of her lips hinged up a bit at Prefect Hermione Granger's use of the word 'cock,' but she didn't get to say anything before there was a knock on the door, then the twins walked in.

"We were just in the area," George began,

"And we heard the most interesting thing," Fred continued, their eyes smiling with an unshared delight. Ginny's eyebrows couldn't go any higher into her hairline.

"Little Miss Granger,"

"Head Girl Granger,"

"Was interested—,"

"—Daydreaming,"

"About a ride—,"

"On our…"

"Cock rocket," the last line was said in unison and with matching smiles. Hermione couldn't contain her giggles.

"Out, both of you," Ginny said, pushing the twins out of her room and into the hall, then locking the door. "Now, onto you." Hermione, who had faced Voldemort more times than she could count, who had been forced to deal with every kind of dark magic and Death Eater technique in the book, let out a very audible gulp.

He was too damn attractive for his own good, that's what Hermione decided when she saw Charlie through the window of her new flat, the lease had just gone through last week, not moments after arriving back home once Ginny had finished with her. But really, through the window she could see the black button down shirt her wore over a pair of form fitting black jeans, and boy, was she a sucker for a man in a suit.

The doorbell ringing, even though she was fully expecting, jolted Hermione from her admiration of the man standing on the other side of the door. She smoothed out her dress, took one last look in the mirror and answered it.

"Hermione -,"

"Charlie -,"

They spoke at the same time then paused in unison.

"Wow, you look –,"

"So do you—," They broke out into nervous laughter.

"Would you like a glass of wine?" Hermione asked after a few seconds of quiet. Charlie smiled.

"Wine would be lovely, please." He followed her into the house, she could feel his eyes on her, and the very thought that the carnal hunger he had for mirrored her own, coupled with the fact that they were truly alone for the first time, turned Hermione's skin a very delicate pink, and made more than just her toes tingle.

"Red or white?" She asked,

"Red for me, if you don't mind," he replied, following her into the kitchen. "Can I help with anything?" Hermione popped the new bottle and walked over to the cabinet.

"I think I'm all set," she replied, "But you can think of something to toast to." They moved to the living room, where Hermione set the fireplace ablaze with the flick of her wand, and they settled on the floor.

"Well, Mister Weasley," she said, "What are we toasting to?" Charlie grinned, the smile on his sculpted tan face, complimented by the freckles that highlighted his cheekbones, melted away Hermione's worries. The flames illuminated his hair and she could only smile back.

"To how beautiful you look tonight," he said with a wink. She smiled and looked down at her wine.

"I mean it Hermione," he added, "you take my breath away." Ginny had done an exceptional job getting Hermione ready. Her hair fell in smooth ringlets out of the loose knot it was in, casting shadows across her chest and down the valley of her breast. The dress was exquisite. Hermione had had been worried that Ginny would pick something risqué, something that itched or made her feel uncomfortable. But instead she had handed her a dress of deep red. It was short sleeved and knee length, beautifully catching her curves and holding them. Coupled with the golden highlights of her jewelry and the light touches of makeup, which only serves as natural enhancement, and Hermione played the role of the goddess.

"You too," she replied, finally looking Charlie in the eye. Fancy her, Hermione Grange, known for her fearlessness, her ability to outwit and out spar anyone in a battle of wands or wits, speechless and the sight of an attractive man. But oh, he was attractive. Her view through the window hadn't been fair to him. His shoulder so filled that deliciously soft looking shirt, the two top buttons popped, affording her the slightest glimpse of his golden chest aglow with the fire.

"I find it hard to believe you're real, let alone in my living room." Charlie smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling with mirth.

"You're a mystery, Princess," he said. He stood with a suddenness that shook her, but he helped her up and added, "I think it's best we leave now, otherwise I might not be able to behave like the gentleman I want to." Hermione could think of two dozen ways she would like him _not behaving like a gentleman_ but she figured those were better left unsaid.

"Well then," she told him, holding out her arm for him to take, "lead the way, Sir."

They were in Italy. It was everything the traditional date that Hermione had never gotten to have. He apparated them to a small park, where a little red Vespa that matched her dress was parked beside an orange tree.

"You ride?" Hermione asked, as he handed her a helmet and climbed on, motioning for her to hold tight.

"Sirius taught me a ways back," he replied, "had to keep it from my mum. She'd have a fit." He revved the engine to life and Hermione circled her arms around his waist, feeling the hardness of his strong back and the bulge of his arms. She could only sigh in contentment.

He drove them out of the city, the sunlight behind the city. They moved out towards the mountains, passing orchards and villages, higher up they climbed in the little red Vespa that matched her dress, the sun slowly moving towards the horizon, as if waiting for them to get to their destination.

"We're here," Charlie said. The ground leveled and she realized they were standing in front of one of the most beautiful villas she had ever seen. It was simply decorated and white orchids made up most of the décor of the front of the house, winding in and around the pillars of the front porch.

"Welcome," he said, walking her around the house, "to my humble kingdom." She was going to respond. The old Hermione would have had a response for everything. But she was stopped, awed into silence by the view before her.

The patio overlooked everything, the mountains, the pastures, the small villages they had passed on the drive up, and to the entire side of the mountain lay the Mediterranean sea, bright and shining as Charlie's eyes, and so close it seemed she could almost touch it.

Hermione turned to him, tears in her own eyes.

"I really don't know what to say," she said, "This is overwhelming. Your home?" Charlie nodded and motioned to a small set table she hadn't noticed before.

"We do a lot of business in Italy. Our partners decided I needed a secondary residence. So they gave me this old thing," he almost seemed to pet the stone beside his arm lovingly. "I'm not here often, but it truly is a heaven on earth, is it not?" His dialect had reverted back to a traditional, almost classical, kind of English, no doubt passed through the generations of Weasley men, shame Ron hadn't gotten his share. But Hermione found she so liked it when his voice rumbled in just that way. Bugger, she liked everything about him.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, and she realized she was. They sat at the table, he poured her wine and lifted the silver trays, revealing steaming entrees that smelled better than anything Hermione had ever eaten.

"You didn't cook this too, did you?" She asked, a smile on her face. "That would be too perfect. Then I would know you aren't real and that I'm sitting on Ginny's bed, where I fell asleep and there'll be drool on my cheeks." Charlie smiled at her.

"Even with drool on your cheeks you're still beautiful," he said.

Dinner passed without silence, save to admire the sun setting before them. Hermione felt her hand curl around Charlie's and the moment was right, so very, very right. They talked about literature and politics, about the rights and welfare of oppressed creatures, about the latest football scores, Hermione had grown up in a muggle family, after all, and Charlie had grown quite fond of it at the pub by the Reserve. Soon nighttime had fallen and Hermione realized that it had been hours they had spent together.

"I have dessert," Charlie said. "Come on." He ran inside for a moment, sliding off his shoes on the terra cotta floor of the patio, and emerging quickly with a small picnic basket.

"Follow me," he said. She did, kicking off her shoes as well, suddenly feeling the thrill that Charlie was emanating, they were giggling like children as she followed him. The path was well lit, a deep descent of stairs, tiki lamps covered the distance before them and allowed Hermione to watch her steps and they climbed down to the water's edge.

Charlie spread a blanket on the pure, white sand before them. Soft trees lined the edge of the shore and Hermione found herself sighing in contentment for the millionth time that night.

She spread out on the blanket, watched Charlie as he unpacked the basket.

"You're even more beautiful in the moonlight," he told her, his eyes shining as he caught her own and she could feel that he meant those words to the very depths of his being.

"Strawberry?" He asked, and Hermione looked down. Before them he had put out a bowl of sinfully sweet looking strawberries and the richest most diving looking chocolate she had ever seen. She picked one up, dipping it in the confection and smiled at him.

"Open," she said. Charlie smiled, parted his beautiful lips, wouldn't she love to have a taste of those instead, and met the dessert with appreciation. When he opened his eyes she was staring.

"Yes?" He asked and she felt the flush spread across her cheeks.

"You're just so," she paused, "enticing." He raised an eyebrow and she smiled back at him. They had done sexy, seduced each other to the point of complete madness. But this was more than that. This was sinful.

Charlie picked up a strawberry and slid it around the chocolate. He nodded his head and she opened her mouth, allowed the sweet strawberry to meet her tongue, slide past her lips and mix her senses all up. It was divine and she closed her eyes, licking the last of the chocolate away from her lips.

"Cor witch," Charlie said, when she opened her eyes again. "You're going to be the death of me, you know?" She smiled at him, the chocolate, the moon, the lapping of the tide; all seduced her senses and clouded her mind.

"You're the impossible one," she replied. "There's this image I have, you leaning up against the counter, you're wearing those damn leather pants, and you've got peach juice sliding down your lips, down your neck, through ever rivet of your chest. And I've got this problem see," she paused. "See I want to lick that juice off of you, every drop of it."

"Hermione," Charlie's voice was down to a low growl and his eyes sparkled like the water before them. "I'm going to kiss you now." All she had to do was smile.

He tasted like chocolate and strawberry. But there was more to it, honey, maybe, and something masculine, woodsy. He smelled divine against her, lit every fantasy alive as her body tingled against him, felt him mold against her, hard against soft curves. She sighed. She was going to get addicted to kissing him. And this was only kissing him; imagine what the rest would be like.

"Hermione," she murmured in acknowledgement against his neck. She could tell she was testing his will and control. The thought secretly elated her.

"Last one in the water carries the picnic basket." He let out a laugh and she hopped up behind him, pulling off her jewelry and sliding the dress over her head and she followed him out to the moonlit water, laughing all the way as she went.

A/N: That's all for now. I hope it lived up to your dreams and fantasies. Happy Valentine's Day to everyone! Maybe I'll get the next chappie up soon but who knows! Thanks for being so patient!

Love,

Ruby


	8. Making Love

Shamelessly

Chapter 8

Making Love

**A/N: **I'm not sure if this is going to be the last chapter. It most likely is, since I've gotten worse and worse about updating this story. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, but thanks for all the great reviews and support I've gotten from you guys. I hope my smut chapter measures up to the emotional foreplay. Cheers!

Making Love

Hermione made it to the water first. Well, she would have made it to the water first if Charlie had grabbed her just as her feet touched the water, lifted her off the ground, and carried her into the calm surf. She let out a small giggle, surprised by the hard body behind her, and then relaxed into it, finally allowed herself to feel Charlie, truly feel him after, after all the weeks they had spent teasing and tormenting each other into near sexual breaking point.

Charlie could feel her meld against him, and his body held her tighter. Hermione mewled; she loved the feeling of his masculinity tight around the softness of her own curves. She was a woman, made of curves in all the places that the tabloids disliked. But from the feel of Charlie behind her he liked them very much.

"Mione," he whispered in her ear and she shuddered as he lowered her to the ground.

"Yes, Charlie?" She responded, hoping her voice didn't waver too much, hoping he didn't see how obviously he affected her.

"I'm going to kiss you now," he began, "and there's a good chance that I won't stop."

"That sounds about perfect," she replied, turning around to look at Charlie. In the moonlight, and the beautiful reflection of the moon that rippled in the water, he looked like the most beautiful kind of god. He was toned and light, and while she had known what the top of his sculpted body had looked like, due to their impossible games, to look at it in this new light, where she was free to do whatever she wanted under the blanket of Italian stars, the only word that Hermione could think to use was _beautiful. _

She let her fingers graze his chest and Charlie shuddered, his hands, large and calloused, wrapped around her waist and pulled her close, and the two sighed in deep content when the hardness of him brushed against the softness of her. Charlie lifted her chin and smiled, then leaned into her, brushing his lips against hers.

They were lost after that, a furious passion of hands and lips, roaming, exploring, desperate, as if denied for too long, they had been, after all, denied for too long. Hermione's arms tangled themselves around Charlie's neck, running wild through his hair. He lifted her up off the ground, and for a moment she was amazed at his incredible strength. Their lips never left each other as she wrapped her legs around his waist, desperate for the feel of his hardness within her.

Charlie was desperate too and brought her back to the edge of the surf where he lowered them both to the ground, placing Hermione on the wet sand, where the light waves trickled up.

He paused for a moment, looking at her in the moonlight and a smile broke out across his face.

"What?" Hermione asked, breathlessly. Charlie caught her lips again and pulled back once more.

"You're a goddess," he murmured, "The most beautiful woman I have ever seen." With that he lowered himself back down on top of her, kissing, first, her lips, then moving down to her neck, where the sinfully slow movement of his mouth drew whimpers of pleasure from Hermione. She could almost feel him smirk against her skin, and would have made comment to it, had she not been so incredibly absorbed in the movement of his mouth across her body.

From her neck he moved down, peppering small kisses across her shoulders, her chest, down through the valley of her breasts that heaved with each shuddering breath she pulled. He circled each nipple with his mouth, and Hermione moved beneath him, desperate for the contact he was denying her. Charlie only smiled. They had been dancing around this mutual frustration for so incredibly long, teasing one another to the bring of absolutely insanity in a deep and impenetrable concentration of lust. He knew she could wait a moment longer.

Finally, finally, Charlie bent down and took her nipple in his mouth and sucked lightly. Hermione bucked against him, her breathing ragged and harsh, and it felt as if her body were on fire. He slid around her skin and did the same to the other nipple, all the while cupping her other breast in his calloused hands.

Just when she thought she could handle no more Charlie began to kiss below her breasts, down the skin of her stomach, placing his lips on her hips, on the outside of her thighs. Her parted her legs gently and Hermione forgot how to breath as he bent his head down, kissing the inside of her legs, all the way up, from her knee to her hip, then down the other side. She was practically weeping with want at his ministrations. Finally Charlie bent down and blew lightly at the apex of her thighs.

"Charlie," she whimpered, "Please?" He leaned in, the feeling of his tongue against her was surely the feeling of Heaven. He blew lightly and caught her clit between his teeth, his mouth so gentle and so passionate that soon Hermione felt herself grasping at the sand beside her, her chest heaving, her body aflame and she exploded, fireworks behind her eyelids, the stars of the night sky twinkling brilliantly before her as great, incredible, indescribable waves of pleasure washed over her body and shook her from head to toe. She had been ranting Charlie's name for a full minute before she came down from her high.

She looked up at him dreamily.

"What?" She asked, after a moment.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him into another kiss.

"I want you," she said, "All of you." She looked in the eye. "And I want it now." Charlie raised a brow a smiled.

"Boss little swot, you are," he replied, but kissed her again, spreading her legs with his knee. He slid one finger inside of her, all the while never breaking their kiss, and Hermione shuddered at the feeling.

"Charlie," she moaned into his lips, "I want you inside of me," he couldn't deny her that, so he positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock nudging against her.

"You ready," he asked her, though he didn't need to. Their bodies and minds were moving as one, already anticipating the other's next step, like a beautifully erotic game of chess.

She nodded and he slowly slid himself into her until he was fully inside. They both sighed in beautiful contentment and he gave her a moment to adjust to his size.

"Charlie," she told him, breaking their kiss and he nodded.

"Can you move, please? Move?" He needed no other encouragement and he began to thrust his hip against her, and she moved back against him, meeting him measure for measure. It was a delicious point of motion, where each rise of her body fell into perfect harmony with the hull of his. They each reveled in the feeling of one another's body's, Charlie in the tightness of his lover, Hermione in the fullness of Charlie, in her, on her, kissing her as though they were never meant to be apart. Perhaps they weren't.

They both felt the onslaught of their climax, first in the tingling of toes, the gripping of hair. Hermione ran her fingernails across Charlie's back, perhaps a little too deeply, and he lost all semblance of control, thrusting fully into her, like a madman. She met him measure for measure and they rose around the top together, the very height of their wave meeting a passion neither had ever before felt and they touched the very top of the universe, the top of the sky, all the stars and every moon and a brilliant display of vibrant explosion beat through their minds and before their eyes and every color they had ever seen or known flashed deliciously, magnificently, before them in an indescribable peak of time and history.

The followed the crest of their wave and for some amount of time, though neither knew how long, their bodies quaked in the aftermath of the earthquake explosion of passion they had reached together.

Charlie finally rolled over, pulled Hermione tight in his arms and kissing the top of her head lightly. She molded into him, that perfect combination of soft and hard, and they both sighed, content.

Charlie nuzzled against her hair, aware that they were on a wet beach, that the sky told the time of late and that they would both be stiff and uncomfortable, should they fall asleep there.

"Hermione," Charlie whispered in her ear. He could practically hear her begin to fall asleep and knew they needed to get back up to his villa, and comfortable bed.

"Yes Charlie," she mumbled. He smiled into her hair.

"I'm never letting you go," he replied.

"Good," she said.

He cast a warming charm around them and conjured a blanket and pillow from their pile of disregarded clothes, placing them under their heads. They would be stiff in the morning, but what did matter? On this Italian beach or in the fields of England, they would have each other.

**A/N: **Oh that was sappy. Hope you've enjoyed their saga, maybe I'll write an eppy, we'll see. Love, Ruby


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